Lucky at Cards, Unlucky in Everything Else
It was probably their last game for the night, and the river was left unturned on the table.
Manny tried to keep himself from looking too relaxed, but the slight buzz of alcohol and the sight of two queens in his hand and one at the table didn’t make that easy. Exhaling smoke from his nasal cavity, he regarded the four other men seated at the table.
They weren’t anyone he’d seen before today—he’d deliberately gone to the other side of town just to get as far away as possible from the soon-to-be Calavera Cafe and all the paperwork it entailed. While he knew a lot of the big names and usual faces in town back around the docks and the racetrack, the guys that had joined him for poker were new to him. He’d learned their names over the course of the evening, at least.
Across from Manny, King sat stooped over his hand, glaring at the cards hard enough to practically burn holes through them. He didn’t look so big hunched over the table like that, but